The tide is rising, rising <br />Out of the infinite sea; <br />From ripple, to wave, to billow, <br />Past beryl and gold and crimson, <br />A prism of perfect splendor; <br />What shall the white surf be? <br /> <br /> <br />The sacred tide is rising, <br />Rising for you and me. <br />Defiant across the breaker, <br />Wave unto wave must answer, <br />The sea to the shore will follow; <br />When shall the great flood be? <br /> <br /> <br />The tide must turn falling, falling <br />Back to the awful sea. <br />Thus far shalt thou go, no farther. <br />The color sinks to the shadow, <br />The pæan sobs into silence, <br />Where shall the ebb-line be? <br /> <br /> <br />By the weeds left blazing, beating <br />Like heart-throbs of the sea, <br />By the law of the land and the ocean, <br />By the Hand that holdeth the torrent, <br />I summon the tide eternal <br />To flow for you and me!<br /><br />Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sung-to-a-friend/
